Shadow of the Night
by scathach124
Summary: AU/Sequel to In the Darkness - a demon has begun to terrorize both the living and the dead at Downton, and as Mary and Matthew attempt to destroy the monster, they begin to unravel secrets that were best left buried.
1. Life After Death

**A/N:** _So here it is, the long awaited sequel to _In The Darkness. _If you have not already read it, I suggest you do that first in order to understand the AU setting of this story._

_I got wonderful reviews before, so I decided to continue this story (plus it was just so much fun). As always, reviews (good or bad) are great, and I hope this is just as exciting as the first._

* * *

The short night ended as the sun rose over the horizon. It's rays touched the stone walls of the large house and shone through the many windows. Every corner of that great house was filled with the morning brilliance. The inhabitants rose, bleary eyed, to begin the long day, and they trudged through the brightly illuminated halls. Each room seemed to glow with a heavenly light.

Except one.

One bedroom remained as dark and silent as a crypt, guarding against any form of light. Shadow dominated the room, covering everything from the ceiling to the floor, to the bed ... and the coffin.

Inside the black casket Mary Crawley stirred, faintly hearing the servants hurry from their quarters to begin the day's work. Even in the dark she could tell today was especially bright, and rejected the idea of going outside. The sun still bothered her; the last time she had tried to go outside on a day like today the heat felt unbearable on her skin. Matthew had warned her that it would take a while for her body to tolerate the sun, and she envied him, how he could step outside and not feel like he'd burst into flames.

She sighed and closed her eyes again. Not that she minded being in the dark, lying in her coffin. It was ebony, lined with the finest silk and velvet inside. While she was enclosed inside it she felt safe, hidden from everything.

She slipped back into dreamless slumber, deciding that when she awoke again she would venture out for the human blood she so craved.

* * *

"Good morning, Carson," Robert said, entering the breakfast room.

The stern faced butler replied with his usual, "Good morning, m'lord," and continued standing like a soldier next to the buffet. Only his eyes moved as he observed Lady Edith and Lady Sibyl follow their father in. Edith rubbed her forehead and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.

"Excuse me," she said. "I hardly got any sleep last night. I was so hot in bed, and then I heard the workers in the village setting up for the fair tonight."

Robert sighed as well; he had heard the creaking of wagons and hammers striking the stakes to hold the tents down from the village. He had almost come to believe the fair was being set up right at the front door.

"There's always excitement for the May Day festival," Sibyl said. "Almost everyone is helping to prepare. Yesterday we saw them bring in all these brightly covered tents —"

"I suppose you want to go and dance around the maypole with flowers in your hair," Edith teased.

Sibyl rolled her eyes. "Well, it might be fun to go after I get back from Ripon. May I, Papa?"

Robert took a long breath. "Very well. Mind that you aren't out too late."

"Perhaps Mary will want to come ... if she's feeling better," Edith said. She and Sibyl shared a sly grin. They knew that Mary was not going to come out today, with the sun shining brightly in the entire house.

"I expect some of the servants want to go tonight?" Robert asked Carson.

"Yes, m'lord, they have asked," Carson said. "Unless they are needed tonight."

"No no, it's alright," Robert said. Thank goodness there were no guests, he felt he needed a quiet evening, since sleep had been scarce last night. Not only that, but something seemed to worry him, and he could not place what. It was almost a gut feeling.

"Poor Mary," Sibyl said. "She does have such terrible cramps. Ever since that fever a few months ago."

Robert gave Sibyl a sideways glance. He hoped that Carson did not think Sibyl's comment suspicious. "Cramps" was the excuse for Mary staying in bed, and "fever" was the code when referring to her transformation into a vampire. So far (and Robert hoped it would stay this way) the only people who were aware of Mary's secret were he and Cora, the girls, Anna, the chauffeur, Matthew, and the Dowager Countess. Robert had hardly been able to register the fact that his daughter and his heir were undead, but the Dowager had received the news as simply as if she had been told the time of day.

"I've lived so long it was to be expected that I'd encounter something as extraordinary as this," she had said.

Despite this strange revelation, though, normal life continued on with few bumps. Both Mary and Matthew had managed to keep their human facade and most times did not seem the type to drink human blood. Nothing catastrophic or deadly occurred since Sir Richard Carlisle was decapitated on the library carpet. In fact, the last few months had been uneventful for the most part, and that was the way Robert wanted it.

Later, Sibyl donned a small hat and her gloves, ready to go to the dressmaker in Ripon. She was ever so excited for a new frock, though she wasn't exactly sure what she wanted. Every dress she owned was an imitation of another, and this time she wanted something new and different. She stepped outside where the car was waiting — where _he_ was waiting. Tom Branson, the chauffeur, an Irishman, and a vampire.

Her memory of that night was hazy, yet she still remembered his cold arms around her, his sharp teeth in her neck, and the horrible pain ... she would never forget the pain. She had forgiven him though, for he had been forced into it, and she knew he was not as cruel as the ones who ordered her kidnapping.

Though she was alone with him in the car, she was not afraid. Branson was a polite man and a good driver, though he seldom talked to Sibyl. He wasn't shy in the least, but there was still a line between lady and servant, and he was not going to be seen talking to her ... in front of everyone else.

"Will you have your own way, do you think? With the frock?" he said, surprising Sibyl.

"Only, I couldn't help overhearing yesterday, and from what Her Ladyship said, it sounded as if you support women's rights," he continued.

Sibyl sat stunned at his unexpected approach. She'd never heard a servant talk to her about something as contentious as women's rights. Then again, the truth seemed obvious to the both of them.

"I suppose I do," she confessed.

"Because I'm quite political," Branson added.

Sibyl watched him in wonder. Never had anyone been so honest with her, especially about politics. Women of her class _never_ talked about public affairs and reform, so it was a change to be part of such a conversation.

"It seems rather unlikely, a revolutionary chauffeur," she said.

"About as unlikely as the existence of vampires," he countered.

* * *

_The world was completely dark; not a star in the sky or a light in the distance. It was as cold as winter, with flower stems limp and a wind that chilled her. She shouldn't be bothered by the cold, but it sent a shiver through her body, biting and permeating her skin._

_She wasn't sure where she was going, and she had no control over herself. Something was making her move forward, into the woods which seemed vaguely familiar. The ground beneath her bare feet was hard, and she saw tiny flecks of frost._

_In the dim woods she could see easily, and soon she came to a clearing where the frost was thickest and the air numbed her fingers. She stood still, looking around, afraid to see something, if she was supposed to look for anything at all._

_And then she saw it. The hole in the ground a foot away from her. Dirt was piled around the edges. __She leaned forward, and she saw the long wooden box deep in the earth. It was decayed as if it had been there for years. She frowned; what was a box like that doing here?_

_Her gasp was silent as screams of unbearable agony echoed from the hole. It sounded as if someone was being mercilessly tortured. At the same time she heard metal clinking, like several chains linked together, and the box rattled a bit. She realized it was not simply a box, but a coffin - and someone was in there! _

_She wanted to help them, to free them, to end their torment and silence their cries, but she could not do anything. She felt as helpless as the creature in that coffin. Yet she was also frightened to see what was there, if it was human. The screams were unearthly, and while they were heartbreaking they inflicted pain on her as well, sounding similar to an enraged animal._

_A violent gust of wind whipped through the trees, and the dirt at the edge of the hole began to spill into the hole and onto the coffin, further upsetting the thing within. The screams continued never to end, those cries of torment seeming to rip her skin apart and bleed her ears and eyes, rendering her blind ..._

Mary awoke, breathing heavily for air she didn't need. The quiet she felt in her casket was relief to her ears, the last reverberations of those screams finally fading away. She lay still, staring at the casket lid above her head.

She had no idea what she had just seen, and it terrified her. The image - the coffin deep in the ground - burned in her mind. She had seen those woods before, she knew. The line of trees in her dream was the same she saw everyday when she looked out her window.

It was telling her something, Mary thought. It was warning her.

* * *

The small party of servants set out to the village just before sundown. Daisy had linked arms with Thomas, a big smile on her face, while William (grudgingly) was walking with Gwen. Even before they saw it they heard the excitement from the people already there, the calliope music winding its way through the streets. Though the sky was darkening, the fair seemed aglow with hundreds of small lights strung around the booths and the trees. Children ran around the tents and giggled as they tried the sweets being passed around. Fire danced upon tall torches stuck in the ground, and some men were even lighting a small bonfire.

"Look, Daisy," Thomas pointed. "They're making a fire because it's the eve of May Day, Walpurgis night."

"Really?" Daisy said. She loved to hear Thomas talk.

"Yes, it's when the sorcerers and witches meet up before spring arrives," Thomas explained.

"Thomas, don't scare Daisy," William said. He couldn't wait for Thomas to shut up.

"No, go on, Thomas," Daisy said. Actually, she wasn't too keen on hearing about witches, but this was the most attention Thomas had ever given her.

The wind whistled through the trees, adding to the noise of the fair. "It looks like a storm is coming," Gwen said. "I don't think we should stay out too late."

"Are you scared too? I didn't know you were afraid of ghosts," Thomas laughed. Gwen made a funny noise.

"Course not!" she said. "Stuff like ghosts and witches and vampires, they don't exist."

Daisy suddenly froze at the mention of the last creature. Even a couple months later that nightmare still haunted her, and just the thought of monsters made her feel weak inside.

"Daisy, you alright?" Thomas asked, sounding overly sympathetic to William. "Here, I'll win you something at the ring toss."

Daisy watched in admiration as Thomas and his expert arm threw the ring close to one of the poles, but her mind was still stuck on that memory just a few months ago. If it was a memory from a dream or reality she still did not know, but the fear that she would see those red eyes in the dark again still worried Daisy. Not a single day went by without her thinking of that night, and sometimes it seemed she'd carry that memory for eternity.

Twenty feet away stood Matthew Crawley, heir to the Abbey and the oldest of the living dead on the estate.

He watched the party of servants with ice-blue eyes, observing the youngest maid clap her hands enthusiastically as the first footman landed his last ring around one of the trinkets. Though his senses were several times stronger than a human's, it was difficult to hear what was exchanged between the second footman and the young maid with the joyful cries of children, the roar of the bonfire, and the general merriment. He saw very clearly the innocent smile of the young maid and the triumphant smirk of the first footman. The smells of the fair clogged his nose, with the burning of wood and cooking of sweets. The scent that watered Matthew's mouth most, though, was that of the blood that flowed through everyone's veins.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lady Mary walking towards him. He saw the worry in her eyes and the urgency in her step.

"Are you alright, Lady Mary?" he asked. He knew that she had spent the entirety of the sunny day in her casket since daylight still proved to be uncomfortable for her, but there was something severely distressing on her mind.

"I'm afraid not," she answered. She brought her voice down to a whisper. "I had a dream."

Matthew looked at her with raised eyebrows, then frowned. "A dream?" he repeated.

For a short while during the transformation period a newborn vampire endured terrible nightmares of unimaginable suffering. Those dreams ended after a few days, and they never returned. To hear Lady Mary had just had a dream troubled Matthew.

"It was like a vision," Mary said. "It was so cold, and I had no idea where I was going..."

She described the vision as best as she could, from the forest by her home to the screams of the coffin. Matthew listened intently, but he had no idea what to make of it.

"You think this forest is close by?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm sure of it. But if there really is a coffin or not, I don't know. Maybe it's a warning of some kind. God, I was so confused and frightened when I woke up." She put her hand to her head. "I need to feed."

Mary was still young, and the smell of blood from so many people was so enticing. Night was falling swiftly. She swallowed and added, "And why did I have it now? All of a sudden?"

Matthew frowned again, and then remembered, looking at the growing bonfire. The flames leapt high and he felt the heat radiating from the pit. He could see figures in the fire, like demons dancing madly.

"I think," he said, "because it's Walpurgis night. The night of evil."

* * *

Midnight was closing in, though there was hardly any rest for the villagers. They gathered around the large bonfire, cheering and laughing, listening to the chime of the church bells.

_One._

_Two._

A bundle of newspapers was thrown in the fire pit, and the flames consumed them up as greedily as hungry dogs.

_Three._

_Four._

The heat from the flames warmed the blood of the gathered people and burned their faces. The fire masked the cold air sweeping in from the forest.

_Five._

_Six._

_Seven._

The bells rang through the village, a sound drowned out by the ceaseless chatter of the fairgoers.

_Eight._

_Nine._

_Ten._

The children who insisted and begged to stay up with their parents ran around the bonfire, laughing as they chased each other around and around.

_Eleven._

Sparks shot towards the crowd, flames lapping at the wood. The fire danced higher than ever, almost with a rage, as if it came from deep within hell.

_Twelve._

* * *

Here, in this tiny hole, in this cramped prison, she slept. She lay unmoving, held immobile by heavy chains that wrapped around her body. A simple wood box encased her, and the earth around the box served as the guardsman, allowing no one to rescue her. Darkness was her only companion.

Her sleep lasted years.

But the nightmare lasted centuries.

It was such a long time ago that he came with his knife and pushed it into her chest, staining her green dress with her lifeblood. Despite being four hundred years old, her memories were still vivid. She even remembered dying, seeing her world fade in a heartbeat. She remained, brought to life by desperation and necromancy.

Her soul was damned.

She remembered long ago that first moment of thirst, when she went mad and ravaged that child, tore her apart like a wild beast. She remembered screaming in rage as she was forced into the makeshift coffin and the chains wound themselves around her. She screamed for a long time after she had been left in the dark. Her hunger had not been satisfied.

It scared her when the chains that bound her fell away and crumbled to stone bits around her. For a long time she simply lay in her wooden prison, feeling the strangeness of freedom. She had grown used to lying still, becoming mad with hunger with every passing year.

And suddenly she had strength, thought she had had no food since she had been locked away. She clawed at the wood above her, her limbs stiff with age and disuse. The wood succumbed to her razor sharp nails and broke apart as splinters. The earth that covered her prison began to fall into the hole, and she worked faster, making a cavity above her head, pushing the dirt into her prison until she no longer needed to lay down. She crouched and continued clawing away without hesitation, scratching away the earth faster than a dog. She could now stand, and she knew she was almost finished.

Her spidery hand broke through the grass to meet the open world. She had not breathed in night air for a long, long time, and she breathed it in, smelling trees and animals, things she had forgotten about. Her hands were tickled by the soft wet grass. A breeze whipped her red hair around her face. The bright moon blinded her eyes, which had grown accustomed to the darkness of her prison. The light shone on her green dress, stained with blood around her breast.

Far in the distance, between the trees, she could see the soft yellow light glowing through the windows of a large castle. Though far away, she was conscious of the many humans in that large house. Humans completely oblivious to the woman buried beneath their land.

She smiled at her good fortune, shadows turning her face savage, moonlight glinting off her overly long teeth. The hunt was beginning.


	2. The Forest at Night

Somehow, Matthew knew that when he awoke, something had gone terribly wrong.

He pushed up the lid of his casket, wondering if it really was morning. The bedroom was so dark it could be mistaken that it was still night. The dawn was silent and grey, a sudden change from the excitement of the fair. No one seemed to be in bed even in the early hours of the morning, and Matthew had had to hypnotize a human away from the fair and into an alley so he could feed. His blood lust had been monstrous, and he understood why. It was Walpurgis night, one the peoples of eastern Europe regarded as an evil night.

Drawing back the thick curtains, Matthew could still see a group of people at the fairgrounds. Setting up for the maypole dances, most likely. But there was something amiss. The crowd was hunched over something by the road, and Matthew could one of the women crying hysterically. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, for he was certain that there on the side of the road hung the stench of death.

When he got outside more people had gathered, some comforting the crying woman, most whispering to their companions. On the other side of the street the children stood, a few crying themselves. The police were here, standing over ... a body.

Matthew pushed to the front of the crowd, and horror spread through him. The body was that of a small girl, sprawled on the ground, dead. Her big brown eyes were glassy, her mouth slightly open, face disturbingly sallow. The expression was one of fright. Her dress was stained with a heavy amount of blood that must have poured from the many gashes on her skin. Her arms, shoulders, and neck were slashed by something with talons. Her pale skin was clean unlike her dress, and the wounds carried no traces of dried blood at the edges.

Matthew stared at the mauled little girl, feeling a dreadful sense of deja vu. That girl lay on the ground in the exact position as the one so many years before, the child that _he _had viciously killed in the same manner just for the blood in her veins. Those first few days after he had risen as a vampire he had murdered every human who bled for him, a savage monster who lived even if it meant others died.

He gave one more sorrowful look at the dead girl and stepped back.

* * *

"I can't believe this," Robert said. "I cannot believe that someone would kill a child like that."

The entire house was in a state of shock; it hadn't taken long for the news of the gruesome murder to spread. Already the village was in a panic, with mothers keeping both eyes on their children at all times. The maypole dance had been canceled.

Mary stood beside Robert who was desperately trying not to look sick at the thought of this murder. Though he had no part in this crime, Matthew felt guilt wash over him.

"Dr Clarkson believes it was an animal, not a person. That little girl was with some other children when they were playing by the woods near the fair. She disappeared suddenly, then one of the farmers driving into the village found her on the side of the road early this morning."

"God help him," muttered Robert. Mary looked up at Matthew. "But it's not an animal, is it?" she said.

"No. I'm sure a mad dog would have left nothing but bones," Matthew said. Robert gave a small shudder.

"The girl was slashed on her arms and neck," Matthew continued. "There was no blood on her except the stains on her dress. Dr Clarkson said there was absolutely nothing left in her, that she was completely drained of blood."

All of them knew exactly what it was that had killed the little girl.

"Lord Grantham, I have to warn you," Matthew said gravely and quietly. "If this is a newborn vampire, then it is everyone who is in danger. Children are at the greatest risk, but no human is safe. If we are to avoid any more unfortunate events no one can be outside their homes from sunset to sunrise, and every window and door must be locked."

"Won't it be able to bewitch the people inside to open their windows?" Robert asked.

"If it's newly turned, no. That skill takes time to learn," Matthew explained. "There's not much else you can do, unless it gives you comfort to place a few dozen bulbs of garlic at the windows."

"Good lord, how am I going to explain this to everyone?" Robert said, looking at the ceiling for his answer.

"The point is, no one can be outside once the sun sets," Matthew said. "Absolutely no one."

"Very well," Robert sighed, "but will _you_ be alright?"

"Papa, don't worry about us," assured Mary, saying what Matthew had been thinking. "It will only be for a few days."

Once Lord Grantham had left, Mary and Matthew were left standing together.

"Matthew ... I wonder," Mary said desperately, "I wonder if this is happening ... because of the dream I had."

Even now images from the dream, the cold woods, the coffin, the screams of agony as dirt fell into the hole, swirled in her mind.

"What do you mean?" Matthew did not understand her words.

"I feel like ..." Mary hesitated, "like there's something more to it. The dream last night, the murder of a child ..."

She placed a hand over her heart and looked down, unsure. "Somehow, I know it isn't a coincidence."

Matthew wanted to take her in his arms, to comfort her, to tell her she was worrying about things that needn't be worried about. Yet he knew it too, the feeling that worse things were about to happen.

"Mary," he said, "last night you said the coffin was in the forest, the one you could see from your bedroom window."

"Yes," she answered. She gave him a skeptical look. "You don't really think there is a ..."

"It's only a hunch," Matthew said. "But if it is there (and I hope it isn't) then —"

"Then we've got a serious problem," Mary finished.

* * *

If there was one thing Sibyl hated most, it was a cage.

The doors of each house in the village and of Downton Abbey were locked as soon as the sun set, for safety from the crazed murderer who brutally savaged a young girl. Everyone would be allowed outside once sunrise came around, but until then Sibyl felt a prisoner in her own home. She never went on walks after dark, but just the feeling of being locked in her own home made her feel as cramped as when she wore one of her slim evening dresses.

The moment she was allowed out she and Gwen Dawson would take the governess cart to Gwen's interview in Moulton. The maid, who aspired to be a secretary, was a bit nervous about traveling with only Lady Sibyl when there was a murderer on the loose, but Sibyl was determined not to pass up any opportunity that came their way. After all, if it really was a vampire as Mary and Matthew believed, then there was hardly any danger in the daytime. Gwen's appointment would be finished soon enough for them to make it back home before dark.

She went to bed, hardly afraid that a vampire would come scratching at her window. She was too excited for she and Gwen to take their secret journey to Malton.

The next morning presented nothing of the grisly sort, yet everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the killer struck again. The sun shone strongly and warmed the back of Sibyl's neck. She guided Dragon into the forest where Gwen was waiting, unrecognizable when not in her uniform.

Gwen seemed more at ease today, or she was just hiding her nervousness. She wasn't confident at her interviews with her résumé stating that she worked as a housemaid, and right now her biggest problem would be if Mrs Hughes or someone equally austere discovered her not in her bed sick like she was supposed to be. But Sibyl's own excitement relaxed her a bit, and soon they were on their way.

All seemed to go well in the beginning; Gwen made it to her interview on time, but there was no way to tell if she had a chance at this job. Sibyl patiently waited, and when Gwen finally came out there seemed to be more than enough time to make it back to Downton.

Then, Dragon lost a shoe and there wasn't a smithy anywhere close by.

Sibyl was certain that if anyone she knew saw her trying to urge Dragon up a hill they would have suffocated from laughing so hard. Dragon was the most stubborn horse she knew, and moving a mountain would be far easier. If he didn't cooperate then Gwen would most certainly be missed, a search party would be sent out for the both of them, and she'd have to answer to Papa.

Besides, if they didn't get home before dark ... they'd both be the perfect prey. She looked up and saw the sun was low in the sky.

"Dragon, if you don't move now I'll have you boiled for glue!" Sibyl shouted angrily.

Something made the horse's body tense, and Sibyl noticed a wild glint in his eye. As if slashed with a dozen whips the horse took off, throwing Gwen and Sibyl into the mud. The rattling of the governess cart seemed far away when Sibyl got back on her feet and spit out the dirt in her mouth.

"Dragon! Come back!" she yelled, but the horse's whinnies grew fainter until they could not be heard.

"Why'd he run off like that?" Gwen asked.

"I don't know," Sibyl said. "I've never seen him bolt like that."

"Did he hear something?" Gwen wondered aloud, looking around her.

"I don't know ..." Sibyl said again. But as she spoke she had a strange feeling, worse than what she might feel if a wild animal was upon her. She realized that even if they walked quickly they might not get back until sunset. And they might have to go search for Dragon, which would take even longer.

"Oh no," she muttered. "Gwen, we need to start walking now, and fast."

"I'm going to be in so much trouble," Gwen said, hitching up her skirt.

"Don't worry, I'll explain everything," Sibyl said, though if they weren't back before dark they were at risk of something much grimmer than a reprimand. Her neck seemed to throb just thinking about it.

Despite moving as quickly as she could in a skirt, the sun dropped in the sky and turned the clouds pink and orange. She wondered, were they both just slow or did night fall more rapidly this time of year. The two of them were muddy and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to get home (although they were dreading getting back at the same time). The evening air was cool yet they were both perspiring so much one would think they had been working in a field. Sibyl kept her eyes to the sky, praying that they might just make it before it was completely dark. Gwen did not know what it was that was out there, but Sibyl did, and that made her more nervous. Her heart gladdened when she saw a familiar set of trees just as the sun was sinking below the horizon.

"Gwen!" she said excitedly. "We're only about ten minutes away, if we hurry."

Gwen panted beside her. "But we haven't found Dragon and the cart yet."

"I'll stay and look for him, you go and get in bed," Sibyl said. She cursed Dragon's running away and continued trudging up the path.

She heard Gwen give a small cry of surprise and whirled around to see her stumble over a large tree root. The root was not thick enough for her to turn her ankle, but her forehead hit the large rock in front.

Sibyl shouted Gwen's name in fright and rushed to her side. She was unconscious, a small trickle of blood dripping from her head.

So close to home they were, but now Gwen was lying on the ground with a cut in her head. Sibyl was afraid, uncertain of what to do. She gingerly pressed her hand to Gwen's forehead, wondering how much blood had already spilled from the wound. She could hardly see, the sky had gone black.

"No," Sibyl breathed. "No, this can't be! Gwen!"

Her ears pricked up when she heard the crinkle of leaves on the ground. Sibyl felt her heart pound like a hammer in her chest. Was it ...?

She squinted her eyes and scanned the forest, but she could only see trees and shadows. And yet she felt a presence, one that made her blood run cold and her heart beat even faster. It was close by, she knew.

She looked at Gwen's blood on her glove. Could it smell the blood from here? No, it could not have gotten much worse than this. Out in the woods in the dark with an unconscious housemaid who was bleeding badly. Sibyl never imagined that a simple expedition to Moulton would result in this.

The wind blew through the trees, and the air smelled of a thunderstorm. _If it rains, this will be the worst day of my life_, Sibyl thought.

_Crack._

The sound of a twig snapping made Sibyl have a small heart attack. _Please let it only be a rabbit, just a small animal_, she prayed.

_Crack._

Another twig breaking. Then, absolute silence followed, a quiet that caused Sibyl even more panic. She was sure one of the shadows behind her was moving, creeping closer to them. The air was unnaturally cold, and she shivered. She removed her wet glove from Gwen's forehead, and the smell of blood filled her nose. How much had she lost now? She seemed unable to stop bleeding. If someone did not find them soon, Gwen was beyond help.

_It was here._

Sibyl froze at the figure standing above her. No light shone on a face, but she could see long hair whipping about in the wind. The creature was panting, sniffing, gasping. It smelled blood.

_Let someone come, anybody, someone help us_! Sibyl's mind raced and so did her heart. The creature heard the thump of her heart and her heavy breathing. It stood but a few feet away, an iciness emanating from it and chilling Sibyl. She wanted to look away, to no longer see it, but her eyes were stuck on the dark creature.

A hand was slowly stretching towards Gwen's face, and in that second adrenaline surged through Sibyl. She threw herself over Gwen, shielding her from the monster before them. It snarled, and in the dark Sibyl could barely see the sharp teeth in it's mouth. It's red eyes were the only light in the forest.

Sibyl screamed, a piercing cry that startled the creature. It drew back, hissing. Sibyl gasped as she heard what might have been words coming from the creature's voice. She screamed again, hoping that someone would hear. Would the villagers come even if they had barricaded themselves inside?

A low growl came from the trees, and the creature looked around wildly, turning its head from side to side. Its movements had been slow and languid up to now. The same crinkling noise that the creature had made when it was approaching Sibyl could be heard again, this time from the area where the trees grew sparser. Sibyl felt both relief and fright. Was it her rescuer or another beast?

Sibyl screamed a third time, though in surprise, as a large animal bounded over her head to land in front the bloodthirsty creature. It was a wolf, large and grey, dagger-like teeth bared as it growled. It stood in a defensive stance between the vampire and Sibyl.

The vampire threw its arms over its face as the wolf barked ferociously, snapping its jaws angrily. The creature turned and fled, unwilling to risk a fight. The wolf continued its baying, not ceasing until it was sure the creature would not return.

Sibyl breathed heavily, staring at the large wolf. It turned around to her, and its nose twitched at the smell of blood. Sibyl braced herself for the attack, wondering if this was a better way to die, getting torn to pieces by a wolf than a vampire. The wolf watched her with red eyes the same color as the vampire's.

"Sibyl!"

Sibyl turned to see Mary crash through the trees. She stopped, seeing Gwen lie still on the cold ground. Her red eyes were wide with shock.

"What happened? Why is she here?" Mary cried, gesturing to Gwen. She put a hand to Sibyl's grimy face, and while the touch was icy cold it gave Sibyl a strange sense of safety. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Sibyl said. "I thought you were locked in the house."

"I saw Dragon with the governess cart, but he was limping, and you weren't in it. Mama thinks you're lying in a ditch somewhere," Mary said.

Sibyl started a bit to see Matthew kneeling beside her, touching Gwen's head. "Thank God we found you in time," he said.

Sibyl looked behind her, but the wolf was not there. She looked at Matthew. "Were _you_ the wolf?" she asked him, dumbfounded.

Matthew nodded, then slid his arms under Gwen and lifted her up as easily as one would lift a hat. "When you weren't home after the sun went down we went searching for you."

"I would have come back earlier, but Dragon lost a shoe and then spooked terribly at something," Sibyl explained as Mary helped her to her feet. "Then Gwen hit her head ... is she going to be alright?"

"I can get her up to her room and help her heal," Matthew said. Sibyl breathed a sigh of relief.

Matthew walked out of the forest with Gwen in his arms. Mary followed, keeping Sibyl upright. "I hope you have a good excuse for Papa," she muttered.


	3. Discoveries

**A/N:**_ Hey readers, I hope you're enjoying this story so far. We'll be getting into some good stuff in later chapters so keep your eyes peeled for updates. I'm excited that I finally got started on this because of everything else in the world (and also excited that I got to upload this chapter on my birthday). __As always, questions and reviews are wonderful._

* * *

After some warm soup and a brief scolding from Papa, Sibyl collapsed on her bed and was asleep in a matter of seconds. Her heart hadn't stopped hammering until she was safe inside. Matthew miraculously got Gwen up to her bedroom without anyone seeing, and Mary did not tell Papa about Sibyl's true motive for her expedition. It had been luck that saved her, thought Sibyl as she drifted into a deep sleep, and a couple of vampires.

In the library downstairs, Mary and Matthew told Robert of what they had encountered in the forest.

"So it really is a vampire?" Robert asked. If he encountered any more bloodsuckers in his lifetime he was going to have a nervous breakdown. "Thank heaven you were both there in time to save Sibyl. But what were you doing out there, hunting it?"

"Not exactly it, but something we think is relative," Matthew explained. Earlier he had been out wandering the forests around Downton Abbey as a wolf, looking for the clearing and the hole in the ground as Mary described. He had not come across any such place, even though his sense of smell was better than a bloodhound's when a wolf, but had been close when Mary had come running out, calling for Sibyl.

"It's in the forest somewhere," Matthew continued. "We'll search during the day."

"And what will you do when you find this thing?" Robert asked. If there was something on the grounds he was unaware of ...

"Papa, it might not even be there," Mary said.

Matthew nodded. "Don't worry about it too much. Just keep Sibyl out of trouble."

"That's like asking a bird not to fly," Mary interjected.

* * *

Lightning cracked across the sky and thunder boomed even before the sun rose in the morning. Torrential rain fell and drenched everything under the grey sky. Even when the downpour finally stopped a thick fog covered the country for miles around. One could hardly see anything twenty feet away. Yet children took this opportunity to meet and play outside together, if only for a few hours. Even though the recent murder had sent their parents on edge, to kids it seemed far away, even when one of their friends was dead.

But danger was not confined to the night.

Not until late in the day did anybody realize one child did not come back into their home for tea. Thus began a frantic search for the small boy, with fear that they would find him exactly the same way they found the little girl. With lanterns to light the way through the fog a few brave men scoured the nearby woods, calling out the boy's name.

Half a mile away, Mary heard the villager's shouts, and faintly saw the soft glow of the lanterns. Beside her the large grey wolf pricked up its ears and raised its head from the ground which it had been sniffing.

"They're calling for someone," Mary said. "A boy has gone missing."

Inside her head she heard Matthew's voice as he looked up at her with bright red eyes.

_I can smell it ... follow me._

The wolf walked deeper into the woods, and Mary followed. She hoped that they would not catch up to the villagers, because a lady following a wolf with red eyes was not something that people saw every day, and they would not accept it as natural. The wolf continued sniffing the ground, not hesitating for a second as he took in the scent of human blood.

With her enhanced hearing Mary could tell how many people were in the forest with them (fifteen) and how close they were. She could hear their panicked talk clearly in the quiet wood.

"He could not have wandered _this_ far, could he?"

"I see more tracks!"

"Those are bare footprints, too big for a little boy."

"_These_ are his, and they follow that way..."

Through the heavy fog the sound of the restless men came closer, as did the smell of blood in the air. It was so strong now that Mary could smell it. She was afraid of being too late, of seeing another little child dead, killed by a monster.

_It's close now,_ echoed Matthew's voice.

"Be careful, Matthew," Mary said quietly, afraid that one of the village men would hear.

Suddenly, the wolf bounded between the trees, disappearing momentarily in the mist before Mary caught up to him. The wolf placed its paws on a fallen tree, its ears bent back as if fearful. Mary stood next to it, peering into the mist.

"No ..." she whispered, her voice ragged.

There, three feet away, lay the missing boy as if he were asleep. Drops of blood had spattered the collar of his coat. He was encircles by marks in the ground of his own shoes and larger bare feet. The smell of blood surrounded him like an aura.

The wolf jumped lightly over the log and padded silently to the boy. It sniffed around the neck and shoulders, Mary watching the boy with apprehension.

_He's not dead_, Matthew said, and Mary breathed a sigh of relief. _He's weak, but alive._

The puncture wounds were still present. _It's not far_, Matthew remarked. _It heard us or the villagers._

"We have to move," Mary said. "They're coming close. They'll find him."

Instead of turning back, the wolf moved further into the woods. Mary saw the tracks in the soft dirt like bare feet, the same size of those that had encircled the small boy. The smell of blood still lingered, but it was rank instead of sweet, like the stench of a dead animal. Animal blood was like manure compared to that of the humans', and Mary did not feel the tempting thirst pressure her as it did so often.

Behind her the excited voices of the search party let both of them know that they had found the boy.

"He's breathing – he's alive!"

"Thank God!"

"Is the assailant near?"

Fog swirled as a breeze blew through the trees, making a whirlwind of the leaves by Mary's feet. While the cold no longer affected her, she felt the evil on it and shivered.

_Mary, _Matthew cautioned. _Keep your guard up. It might be close by._

Up ahead was a clearing in the forest, one that Mary recognized from her dream. The fog was still too dense to see much else until they got closer, but Mary did not want to get closer. She did not want to know if what she had seen was true. She swallowed nervously and followed the wolf into the clearing.

The wolf crouched and raised its hackles, sharp canines bared as it snarled at the fog. Mary had seen him act like this yesterday, moments before he saved Sibyl from the other vampire. Inside her head his voice sounded normal, but when Matthew was a wolf he behaved like a ordinary animal. He both frightened and fascinated Mary.

With wary movements the wolf stepped forward, ears up and alert, mouth snarling aggressively. Mary followed closely, the thick tail banging against her skirt. Through a wall of heavy fog they passed, and on the other side they both stopped, staring at the ground.

"It's ... true!" Mary whispered.

The hole was not freshly dug like in the dream, but the small hole in the grass was wide enough for a person to fit through. The dirt was curled upwards like it had been perforated from beneath. And though neither of them dared to advance any further, they knew the presence of ancient wood deep in the earth and of rusty metal linked together in heavy chains. The realization swirled around them like the mist.

"What does this mean?" Mary said aloud.

"It's something evil," Matthew said, who had reverted from his wolf form. "But what exactly, I do not know."

* * *

The missing boy was returned to his home, and while everyone rejoiced at his safety, questions still floated amongst the gossipers. Why was the little boy not dead, but severely anemic? How had he been led so deep into the woods?

"I'm telling you," Thomas said as he sipped his tea, "any more strange happenings and people will be moving as far away from here as possible."

"'Strange 'appenings?'" Sarah O'Brien repeated mockingly. "Children go missing every day. Nothing 'strange' about it." O'Brien did not tolerate anything she perceived as nonsense.

"Are you forgetting, Miss O'Brien," Thomas began haughtily, "that when that one little girl was found, she was still in one piece and had bled completely to death? Not a single drop of blood except for what stained her clothes. Nothing on the ground around her."

"She was moved, you fool," O'Brien said. "Moved from where the murderer did his dirty work."

Thomas put his index finger up, which got the attention of nearly everyone eating breakfast in the servants' hall. "And the kid who was found in the woods last night, his clothes were stained with his blood, but there was no exit wound."

Now everyone was listening to what Thomas had to say next. Even Bates found himself listening to the detestable footman.

"Of course, some of the men who found him swore that they saw two red marks on his neck where the blood must have spilled from. But the doctor found no such marks when the boy was brought to him."

A rare silence hung over the room. Not even O'Brien knew how to counter this.

"What are you suggesting, Thomas?" Bates asked.

"Nothing," Thomas replied. "But what I said before - it's strange. It's like something out of a novel I once read ..."

"Anna, are you alright?" Bates asked. She was looking pale this morning. Some days she looked rather tired with dark circles under her eyes that gave the impression that she was constantly ill.

Anna looked up from her plate. "Yes, I am quite well, Mr Bates," she said, smiling weakly.

She was not the type of person to hide much, and Bates worried for her. Even when she looked like she had hardly had any sleep she still managed to act cheerful every morning.

The bells on the board behind Mr Carson's chair began to ring as they did every morning.

"And they're off," Thomas said, taking one last gulp of his tea. "I do hope we can go one day without seeing a dead body."

"I hope so too, Mr Barrow," said Mr Carson, who had entered the servants' hall just now, in a tone that did not tolerate scorn.

As Anna stood up from her chair, Bates noticed the subtle purple bruise below her chin. He had taken notice of that strange bruise a long time ago. Some days it was noticeable, but others her neck was as clean as a freshly washed bed sheet. Bates had never imagined the tasks given to a housemaid could result in a bruise like that.

Sooner or later, someone was going to ask.

* * *

When Mary had seen the hole in the ground, she felt like all of her fears had come true. Somehow she had known that it was there all along, but seeing it for herself had been worse than not knowing for certain. For a long time after she got out of the forest she had been shaking, and it was only after she had gone up to Anna's bedroom to feed did she regain her calm.

She did not want to rise from her casket. She did not want to face the day. She had not felt so frightened in a while, not since the moment she realized she had changed, the moment that she knew she was a vampire. When she had first seen her own red eyes in the mirror she was filled with dread, and for a while her future had been uncertain. She felt that same way now, just as unsure of what was to come.

But at the same time Mary would not let any evil harm anyone else; she could not. She remembered the danger she had been in because Kemal Pamuk had turned her, but that was an evil that could no longer hurt her. If she and Matthew had taken down both Kemal Pamuk and Sir Richard Carlisle, then it was possible that they could contain this recently awoken demon.

She pushed up the lid of her casket and blinked. Somehow she still expected to be blinded by light when she woke up, but as always her bedroom was as dark as it was in the night. Although, when she peered outside, the sun did not seem to have risen this morning. Today, the world was still blanketed in heavy fog, exactly as it had been yesterday. The sky was unchanged, and yet Mary knew that everyone at Downton Abbey - she, her family, and all the servants - were in danger.

It was hard to walk down to breakfast and carry on with the world as if everything was normal. She itched to tell Papa what had been discovered last night, but she had not yet had a chance to talk to him alone. Last night with all the servants about them there was no place to talk to him and not enough time. And if he didn't know what was going on, he was not going to be in any less danger.

"Another dreadful day," Robert said. "And just when I thought summer was on the way."

"Papa," Mary whispered into his ear. "We need to talk."

Robert looked at his daughter with a mix of confusion and seriousness.

Sibyl watched as Papa followed Mary out of the room with curiosity. She knew the way her sister and her father looked whenever something was up. She glanced at Edith, who shrugged as she cut into her eggs.

There was something going on, something probably very important if Mary and Papa were hiding it from the rest of them. Sibyl sighed and rubbed her head. She already had too much going on. If it was about the vampire that had attacked the children, then Sibyl had had enough with it. She was sick of that caged bird feeling at night, and she was getting too much grief about the other night. Sibyl still blamed Dragon for being a stubborn scardy-cat and causing the whole mess.

And since that night she could not get the image of the vampire standing over her as she held Gwen's limp body. The monster whose face was covered in shadow. She wondered how she had not simply died of fear back there. The way it had looked at her with those red eyes, how its spindly hands had crept toward her with the intention of ripping her skin apart, it seemed more of a memory of a nightmare than real life.

To Sibyl, the concept of real life had been altered recently. The reality was, vampires did exist, but a more recent discovery told Sibyl that she _did_ indeed support women's rights, and that she had much more of a slight interest in politics. She had discovered the pamphlets under her pillow last night and had read and reread them until three o'clock in the morning. Those pamphlets awoke in her that desire for change, a wish that could be regarded as an illness amongst women of her social standing. Nevertheless, Sibyl was comfortable with this epiphany, despite the mystery of how the pamphlets got under her pillow in the first place.

The solution to the mystery was simple, and Sibyl could not help but smile to herself. It was silly of her to think of things like that.

"What's so amusing?" Edith asked, bringing Sibyl out of her thinking.

"Nothing," Sibyl insisted. She clenched her teeth to keep from smiling.


	4. A Shade from the Past

**The Previous Night**

_For Matthew, feeding had always carried with it a sense of guilt, but tonight there was no feeling of satisfaction at all. Even when the fresh blood seeped into his mouth and touched his throat he remembered the recent misfortune that had befallen Downton, all thanks to a power much darker than he originally thought. And here he was, the same species of monster with the same unholy cravings. But in spite of__ these misgivings he would not stop until his hunger was satisfied, and he kept on sucking at the wound his lengthened canines had made._

Thump.

_In the deathly silence of the night Matthew heard the sudden noise clearly, pausing to listen. He removed his fangs from his victim's neck and stood up straight, blood coating his lips. He was sure he heard the noise outside and stepped closer to the open window. There was not much to be seen. It was the time of night when everything was dark, when not even the glow of the moon gave off light. He climbed onto the sill, closed the window behind him, swung himself up onto the rooftop and waited._

_The hours when he fed were usually silent, and if he heard a sound outside he usually would not pay much heed to it. But with a more savage beast lurking around, such a noise made Matthew wary. He tensed, looking around him slowly like a hawk watching for a mouse._

_There - at a house down the street, the creature had settled. It had climbed up to the second story, hands and face pressed against the glass panes of a window. That window, Matthew knew, was one that looked into the nursery where two young children slept. He saw the creature scratch at the glass and faintly heard it speak in a low, raspy tone._

_"Let me in."_

_Over and over it whispered these words. It's face was hidden from view, but Matthew imagined the smile of sinister glee as it clawed at the window. _

_Snarling, Matthew leapt over the rooftops, landing in front of the creature. It startled, hissing and spitting madly. It let go of the window and fell, the long garment that clothed it billowing around it as it fell to the ground. Not daring to look back it fled, long red hair streaming out behind it. Matthew stood watching it run, with an unbalanced gait._

_It made for the woods in less than a moment, the trees turning it invisible in the dark. Even after it disappeared Matthew kept his eyes on the spot where it had entered the woods, finally relaxing after he was sure it would not come out again. _

_Inside the house he heard the panicked breathing of the children he had saved, and he was thankful that he had chosen this night to feed. If he had not been out, those children might not be breathing at all. He did not want to have to see another dead child, savagely killed by a monster._

* * *

"You're telling me that there is coffin that's been buried in the woods for God knows how long, and I had absolutely no idea about it?" Robert had no idea if he was horrified or angry, but he was most definitely astonished.

"How were you supposed to be aware of this?" Mary said. "It's probably been there for ages."

"But it's been there all along, right under our noses, and we had several opportunities to prevent these tragedies." Robert exclaimed.

"There's nothing that could have prevented it," Mary explained. "Even if you discovered it beforehand there'd still be a vampire it in, and it would have gone for the kill."

Robert sat in one of the armchairs in the library, taking a deep breath. _How in the world am I supposed to handle this_? he thought to himself.

"We really only have one choice," Mary said. "We have to destroy it."

Robert expression was that of unparalleled dread. He was content with locking the doors at night to protect the people in Downton against a vampire, but to go and find it with the intention of murdering it unnerved him greatly. Chasing after it like an angry mob was as good as tying his own noose.

"You can't be suggesting that?!" he asked incredulously.

Unfortunately for him, Mary was not joking.

"Matthew and I have talked it over," Mary said. "It awoke on the day of the fair which also happened to be Walpurgis night. Something must have happened so that it was freed from the woods."

"Freed?" Robert repeated.

"There were chains with the coffin," Mary said.

"Someone locked it away," Robert figured. "That makes sense. Then somehow it broke free?"

"Somehow, but I don't know what exactly," said Mary. "But right now that's not a problem. If it was a newly turned vampire eventually the hunger would subside. But it's still going after young children, and it doesn't show signs of stopping."

Though her voice was surprisingly calm, Robert could something in her eyes that showed she was just as scared as he was.

"Don't you see?" she continued. "We really only have one choice."

There was a grave silence that lasted a long minute.

"I suppose it's ridiculous to think that we could have hidden from it forever," Robert said. "But Mary, are you sure you'll be able to do it?"

"Of course," Mary said. She remembered killing Sir Richard as if it were yesterday, right there on the library floor.. She had felt both fury and pity that night, and as she gripped the knife handle she poured every ounce of strength she had into cutting off the wicked man's head. She would wholeheartedly kill again if it would protect her family.

Robert took his daughter's hand in one of his. Today her skin did not feel as cold as it usually was. He looked straight into her eyes.

"Mary, you must promise me you'll be careful," he said seriously. "I can't stop you from heading into something dangerous, but as your father I have to tell you I could never live with myself if something happened to you."

Mary folded her other hand over her father's and gave him a smile full of warmth. "Don't worry," she said. "Matthew and I will be alright."

"I certainly hope so," Robert said.

* * *

Sibyl and Edith had already finished breakfast when Mary and Papa came back from the library. Both of them walked with unmistakeable solemnity, and Sibyl guessed that they had been speaking about the vampire terrorizing the village.

"What is it?" she whispered to Mary.

Mary's face was unsmiling. "It's nothing for you to worry about," she said, and turned away. Her tone of voice left nothing to be challenged.

Sibyl crossed her arms and stalked away. She hated it when people, especially her own family, treated her like she was still a child.

"What's that face?" Edith asked. Sibyl hardly ever looked sour, and it was almost amusing.

"Mary's not telling us something," Sibyl said irritably.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," Edith said.

"And that all worked out well," Sibyl added sardonically. She brought her voice down to a whisper as a pair of maids walked by. "If she's hiding something it can't be good. I know it's about 'it.'" She mouthed the last word.

"You think there's something we don't know?" Edith asked. She was skeptical, but at the same time Sibyl did not seem to be making this up.

"There has to be," Sibyl said. "I saw it on Papa's face. It's something neither of them want us to find out."

"Sibyl," Edith said pleadingly, "if they aren't telling us it might be for the best. If it is about the 'thing' then maybe it is best if we don't know."

Sibyl scowled. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because you aren't that strong in defending yourself," Edith said. "And you're the type of girl to go looking for trouble."

Sibyl shot the black look at Edith. "Am not!"

"Well, you get into trouble plenty of times," Edith said.

"That was one time!"

"Girls!" Cora called out from the stairs. "What are you bickering about today?"

"Trivial matters, Mama," Edith said. She walked away, leaving Sibyl alone with Mama.

"I trust it is some trivial matter?" Cora said, giving Sibyl the mother-knows-everything look.

"Of course it is," Sibyl said cheerfully. "Nothing to worry about." She suddenly frowned to herself, realizing she sounded like Mary. "When do you think my frock will be ready?"

Cora smiled and laughed at her youngest daughter. "Heavens, I can only guess. Be patient for just a little while longer."

"I don't think I can be patient for much longer. I can't wait to show it to everyone," Sibyl said excitedly. She went off after Edith, following her older sister into the library.

Cora thought Sibyl was starting to get a mischievous look in her eye, and somehow it concerned her. But Sibyl - was she skipping off? - always seemed in high spirits when the doors were unlocked. Yes, she was growing up too fast. All of them were.

* * *

For what she hoped would be the last time, Mary followed Matthew into the woods, following the trail of bare feet. The forest was just as gloomy as last night, the air reeking of death, and neither of them felt safe as they retraced their steps through the dense grove of trees, walking closer to the place they wished they had never seen. Mary tried not to breath in the horrible stink similar to rotting meat. She felt just as frightened as she had in her dream, the sun hidden behind layers of dark clouds.

Matthew too felt nervousness from approaching the clearing again, but it was the foeter of decay that proved more unsettling. It seemed stronger and stronger as the moved deeper into the forest, the older trees looming over the pair with thin claw-like branches. _It's close_, Matthew though, and instinctively he touched the dagger at his side, the one that had seen enough bloodshed in its lifetime.

He heard Mary stop behind him, and stare at something on the ground. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"What is it?" Matthew asked.

"The animals. They're all dead," Mary quavered.

At the root of a rotting tree, a small brown rabbit lay, clearly dead. Then Matthew noticed the two birds on the ground by the path he was following, lifeless, as unmoving as toys.

The forest was absolutely still, and the only sound was the rustle of the leaves. The stench of death hung in the air, festering in the wind.

"It's like ..." Mary's voice shook. "It's like they just fell over and died."

As they moved closer and closer to the clearing they found last night, they spotted more dead animals, all lying like pelts for sale. Matthew could smell their putrid blood even if none of it had been spilt on the ground. He felt the same presence, the same terror that he had caught earlier, and with the fog that wrapped around the tree trunks, the place took on the form of a haunted forest.

He remembered last night, how he saw it scratching at the window, the red hair streaming out behind it as it fled. He hoped that they would find it and kill it quickly, to leave it to crumble to dust. He did not want to see another dead child or hear the panicked cries of people searching in the forest for a missing victim.

"Matthew!"

Mary's harsh cry made him automatically grab his dagger. He looked around, expecting to see the vampire close by.

They had come to the clearing which seemed as dark and cursed as ever. But even through the fog they could easily see the hole where the coffin still lay. Not a single ray of light reached that hole, as if the darkness had swallowed everything up.

Mary looked around, her face whiter than snow. "Is is close?"

"I hope it is," Matthew said, gripping the dagger.

He moved towards the pit, forcing himself forward even though his every instinct was to turn and run as far away as he could. He did not like the feeling that was coming from the coffin one bit. A bitter wind that chilled him seemed to rise from the hole. Even he, whose kind were impervious to the cold, could not suppress a shudder.

Peering into the ground, he saw the splintered wooden lid of the coffin, and the coil of heavy chains inside. Some of the metal links had crumbled into rusty pebbles. But it was undeniably empty, even with it being as dark as night in there.

Matthew tore his eyes away from the grave. "It has to be in these woods somewhere. I saw it run straight for this place last night."

Mary shivered, not daring to look at the coffin. "Where do you suppose it is? The tracks we followed lead right here."

Matthew opened his mouth to say something to her, but behind him he heard a twig snap. He whirled around holding the dagger ready.

He saw the stiff body of a large black bird bounce off the ground and stop ten feet away, wings spread out on either side. It's mouth was open as if screaming, but it was as dead as every other animal in the forest.

Matthew heard Mary's sharp intake of breath, and her eyes were wide, staring right into the fog.

"I can feel it," Mary said, shivering. "I can feel it."

"Don't be afraid," Matthew said to her.

All around them they heard the restlessness of forest, the tree branches rubbing against each other and the rustle of leaves. Every few seconds there was a thump on the ground of what was probably a recently deceased animal falling from a treetop. The mist swirled around them like an angry ocean, seeming to devour the entire forest around them. It felt like years to Mary as she stood close to Matthew, looking all around, shivering in the unnaturally wretched cold, waiting for the creature to show itself.

It might have been just a few moments, or it might have been an hour when the fog finally cleared some and Matthew saw the dead animals dotted here and there on the forest floor. The wind howled like a lament for the dead beasts. But the vampire did not appear. Mary began to think that it had fled once more.

"It might still be here," Matthew said. "Stay close."

Mary looked back at the grave. Even with peace returning to the forest she could still hear, in her head, the screams the creature had made when it was locked away.

_Screaming as it suffered nightmares, screaming as it felt pain too agonizing to bear._

_Screaming in anger, in jealousy of those who had freedom to walk the earth._

_Screaming for the blood it so desperately desired._

A rustle of leaves high above their heads shook Mary from her thoughts. She felt Matthew stiffen beside her, his white hand wrapped tightly around the handle of the long knife. "It's still here," he said quietly.

For a few seconds, not a single sound could be heard in the forest. Everything, even Mary and Matthew, was as still as death. The silence was unearthly. The quiet to which terror would follow.

The crash came so suddenly it startled Mary, the sound of breaking tree limbs resonating through the forest. Leaves crackled as the branches fell to the ground, carrying with it a bundle of dark green fabric. And, Matthew saw, red hair. The same bloodthirsty creature he had seen last night scratching at the bedroom window, hungering for a child's blood.

Instinctively, Mary grabbed onto Matthew's free hand, and he squeezed it, keeping a firm grip on the knife. Both of them watched as the creature pushed itself up, lifting its head from the ground. Tangled hair hid its face as it struggled to stand. Even in the darkness Mary could see the tattered skirt of a emerald green dress that was decaying with age. The corset was stained with an ugly dark splotch. One shoulder was bare, the sleeve hanging in shreds by the creature's waist. It was of a small demeanor, thin, with an extraordinary pallor. Its hair was vividly red, but matted and hanging limply over its bosom.

Mary felt Matthew's grip on her hand weaken, and she found he was staring at the creature with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"No," he breathed, not taking his eyes off of the red-haired creature. "It can't be!"

Slowly, the creature raised its head, revealing a pale face that held the same stricken expression as Matthew. Bright red eyes glowed in the dim light. Then, a horrible smile crept over its face, sharp white teeth showing between lips marked with dried blood.

Matthew dropped the dagger, unable to tear his eyes away from the woman in front of him. He was frozen in his place, filled with dread, looking at the very thing that he never believed he would see - that he hoped he would never see. He felt as if his worst memories were standing in front of him, as if this was one of the nightmares he had suffered so long ago.

"Lavinia?" he whispered.

The woman's sharp smile terrified him, and her red eyes pierced a hole through him. Even with her before him he could not accept that this was real.

"Yes," she sighed, her voice soft but rasping. "Matthew ... I-I'm here."


	5. Wilt Beauty

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but when you're studying Chinese all day you can hardly write in English :)_

_Yes, so the last chapter was shocking? Don't relax just yet, hopefully the next chapters will be just as exciting._

* * *

The entire world seemed to spin around Matthew.

She was here, standing in front of him, as real as he was. There was no doubt it was her, in the same green dress with the bloody stain over her heart.

He had not forgotten that night, that horrible night when he took the dagger, the same that fallen to the ground, and pushed it deep into her breast. He had seen her lifeblood flow from her chest and blacken her gown. He saw the red liquid on the dagger as soon as he wrenched it from her. She had fallen to the floor, lifeless, at his feet. Her heart had stopped beating, he had not felt its throb when he caressed her soft skin one last time. He wept when he realized what he had done to her, what he had to do, when he knew that she was dead.

But she was standing here, as if that night had never happened.

Matthew tried to speak, but he couldn't shape the words he wanted to say.

This could only be a dream, he wanted to believe, but he did not dream anymore. It was all real, everything, even her, though it could not be possible.

She had changed, Matthew saw. The rosiness had gone from her cheeks and been replaced with an unhealthy pallor. Her bright eyes had gone wild, the pretty blue-green replaced with a demonic red.

And her teeth, he could see through her smile, had grown long and pointed.

"No," he said, his voice shaking. "How can this be?"

Lavinia's sweet smile was turned barbaric with her sharp teeth, and she walked forward, arms outstretched to Matthew. He watched her tread barefooted across the dirt, and part of him wanted to turn away from her. But he stood still and watched her come towards him.

"Matthew?" he heard Mary say. She gripped his arm tightly and shook it a bit, but he remained motionless, even as Lavinia came close enough to touch him. Mary too watched her with bewilderment, filled with fear of the approaching spectre.

Her touch was like ice, but her eyes burned like fire. The moment her long fingers brushed against him Matthew stepped back, away from the strange creature that was once his beloved fiancée. Lavinia looked at him sadly, which might have evoked pity if not for her ghastly appearance.

"Matthew, don't you ... know me?" she said sadly. "It's me, your Lavinia."

She reached out for him again, and when she took his hand he did not back away again.

"Lavinia," Matthew said, finally sensing that this was really her. "What happened?"

Lavinia did not answer him. "I never thought I'd see you again," she said sultrily. Her innocence had gone to seed, and she was looking at him as hungrily as if he were a human. "I never imagined you'd be here."

"I can't believe you're here either," Matthew said.

"So long ... it's been so long," Lavinia sighed. Her breath reeked of blood. "And I've been so ... hungry." She ran her tongue over her sharp fangs.

"Lavinia, what's happened to you?" Matthew said, his own fangs descending involuntarily. "I ... _I killed you_."

Mary stared, abject horror silencing her. The creature was panting heavily as if out of breath, smelling the air._ It's still thirsting for blood, _Mary thought. She wondered if it detected the traces of human scent from the middle of the woods.

Lavinia threw her head back and breathed deeply, nostrils flaring wide. "Please ... let me have _it_!" it rasped.

Matthew stepped away from her, feeling a sense of disgust at the inhuman soul.

"No, Lavinia," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. Lavinia looked at him, staring sadly like a child whose toy has just been taken away. But Mary saw the lurid light in her red eyes, and as the monster's long hands became posed like bird talons her mouth formed into an angry grimace.

"Lavinia, calm down," Matthew said, sensing the woman's intention to release her rage then and there. Her eyes were transformed with a fury Matthew never knew could possess her.

All of a sudden Lavinia was thrown aside, tumbling to the ground with a heavy thud. A hellish cry came from her lips and she clutched the side of her head where the small rock had struck her. She noticed Mary for the first time, her wrath unmistakable. Mary stood tall, one hand gripping another stone.

At that instant Lavinia righted herself and, like an animal ready to pounce, lunged straight for Mary. Quick as lightning Matthew caught the enraged woman before her claws could reach Mary's face. She struggled in his arms, snarling and spitting curses, but Matthew did not slack.

"Lavinia, look at me," he commanded. Lavinia threw her head around to look at him, and as soon as she saw his red eyes she collapsed, limp as a rag doll.

Both Mary and Matthew looked at the unconscious monster still in Matthew's arms. Her red hair fell over her closed eyes, but her mouth still wore the cruel scowl. It was a long time before anyone had the courage to speak.

Matthew could hardly believe that this - thing, this monster that sought the blood of young children, was his innocent bride-to-be long ago. He held one of her cold hands in his and felt the stickiness of blood on her palms. Her nails were tainted with redness.

He slid his arms around her ribcage and under her legs. Her head lolled back, the hair falling aside to reveal the pale visage. Her mouth was slightly open, and her fangs were still visible. All this time he had hidden in the shadows thinking she was gone forever, and all this time she was buried deep beneath the earth, deprived of the blood the undead hungered for. It broke his heart to see her suffer in this form, as the same monster that he had become.

Mary looked at the immobile woman in Matthew's arms. _She_, who Matthew said never caused a moment's sorrow, was the one responsible for the tragedies? She knew what Matthew had done to Lavinia, and she was just as perplexed as him.

"How could this be?" she asked, looking up at Matthew. "You said she was dead."

Matthew shook his head, devoid of answers himself. "She _was_ dead. There was no way she could have survived, she had lost too much blood when I ..." His voice trailed off. Mary knew he was thinking of that night.

"What do we do now? Where do we go from here?" she wondered aloud. The fog still blanketed the forest, but the horrible cold had gone.

"I don't want to leave her alone," Matthew said, his voice heavy. "She ..."

"We can't risk anything happening again," Mary said. If this creature attacked her family Mary would not hesitating making it wish it was in hell.

Matthew looked at Lavinia, and then nodded. "You're right. But we can't bring her anywhere there's people or she'll kill them."

"That leaves this forest," Mary said.

Matthew looked at the hole containing the coffin that had imprisoned Lavinia. "Mary, get some of the chains in there. They should still be long enough."

He lay Lavinia down on the ground close to a thick tree root. Mary, shuddering, climbed down into the hole and grasped some of the large chains lying on the wood of the long box. Despite being centuries old and somewhat broken, they were still strong.

Keeping Lavinia asleep, Matthew pressed her wrists to the tree root and tightly wound the chains around it, securing it so that they would not loosen accidentally. Ensuring Lavinia stayed asleep with his mind was relatively easy; she was as weak as a mortal, even having consumed blood a few times. She would not even be able to wriggle free of her bonds.

He looked down at her slumbering face, and even sleeping she looked like a monster, dreaming of its next meal. God, how could this have happened? He wished she had stayed dead for the sake of her soul, so she would not live as a bloodsucking demon. It pained him to see her this way. In his mind he remembered her lovely spirit, not an unkind bone in her body, a far cry from what she was now.

It did not feel wrong leaving her in the forest. Truth be told, he was almost glad not to look at her horrid appearance, not to think of her wasted beauty. It was almost that he felt an aversion to her now. He did not like to think of it that way, but she was not the same Lavinia he had killed.

"Matthew," Mary said, as they began walking away from Lavinia and out of the forest, "what are we supposed to do now?"

Matthew could hardly venture a guess. The thought of killing her yet again was unbearable ... but if Lavinia did not calm down soon it might be their only option.

* * *

Mary returned home, feeling a mixture of fear and exhaustion overwhelm her. She had previously thought that when she next saw home a vampire would be dead and everyone safe. But no, it was still alive, and worse, it was a woman who was supposed to be deceased. Mary had not learnt much about Lavinia, only what Matthew had told her, but she understood what had happened to her. Or rather, what Matthew believed had happened to her.

She almost felt pity for the creature, because she knew exactly what it was like to thirst for blood so much. She did not like the way she looked at Matthew with hungering eyes and spoke to him like a siren, but perhaps it was all because she was being driven mad with her bloodlust.

Nevertheless, as long as Lavinia stayed in her current condition, she was still a threat.

Later that night, Mary softly padded to the servant's bedroom, silent as a cat. Both Anna and Gwen were fast asleep, perhaps dreaming. The scent of their blood watered her mouth, the vanilla-like scent of Anna's mixing with the equally enticing cinnamon smell of Gwen's blood. Mary had never drank Gwen's blood, and briefly she wondered if anyone would mind if she took just a few gulps. But she knew about self-control, and she bent down to Anna's neck. She could still see the faint white line just below Anna's chin where Mary had torn the skin when she bit her the first time. It still amazed Mary how she had not killed her maid when even Matthew had drunk humans dry. And that Lavinia ... her lust was still insatiable.

But Mary knew that _she _could control herself, even when she bit through Anna's flesh and the luscious blood streamed into her mouth.

It was a good thing that the chauffeur was no longer the murderous type. Any more deaths and there would be trouble for everyone.

It was deathly quiet in the house, so quiet that Mary could hear everyone's breathing. Her papa was snoring loud enough to wake the whole house, but her mother's faint breathing was too soft for anyone with normal hearing to perceive. It wasn't loud to Mary, she could very easily ignore it ... but as she passed Sibyl's bedroom she heard something odd. Her breathing pattern was different than that of a sleeping person. Sibyl was still awake.

Sibyl lay staring at the canopy of her bed, thoughts invading her mind so that it was impossible to sleep. It was as if a thousand tiny voices were talking to her, and as soon as she found sleep taking her they'd be yelling in her ear again. There was so much she was thinking about, more than she thought she had to worry about. The women's suffrage movement, of course, and the task of getting Gwen a job as a secretary was also eating her away. But there was something else that she did not want to admit she was thinking about late at night, something that always crept back when she tried to ignore it.

The door opened suddenly, breaking the constant noise in Sibyl's brain. She turned her head and saw Mary enter. She was a bit surprised at first, but she saw a small trickle of blood drip from Mary's mouth and she understood.

"Can you not sleep?" Mary whispered.

Sibyl shook her head, rubbing her hair against the pillow. It was no wonder Mary could hear her breathing heavily, trying to calm down enough to sleep for at least a few minutes.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Mary asked. She knew Sibyl could sleep like a baby.

Sibyl shook her head again. "No, I ... I'm just not tired." No way she was going to say to Mary what she was thinking about.

"You've got a lot on your mind, haven't you?" Mary said. She heard the whispers of Sibyl's thoughts in her own head, words all jumbled around so that it was impossible to make sense of. Small wonder that Sibyl could not sleep.

"I guess," Sibyl admitted sheepishly. It was weird having a sister who could see into someone's mind without knowing it. Sibyl felt that she couldn't hide her secrets. Hopefully Mary would not mention that she had been thinking of _him_.

Mary wiped away the blood dripping down her chin and sat down on the edge of Sibyl's bed. "Do you need some help getting to sleep?"

"I'd be lucky to get even a wink of it," Sibyl said gratefully.

Mary drew her hand in front of Sibyl's face, and Sibyl's eyes locked onto the sharp nails. Her sister's red eyes were glowing in the dark, and they were the last thing she saw before her eyelids grew heavy and fell, blacking out her world. The pillow sank a little as a peaceful slumber overtook her.

Leaving Sibyl to finally get some rest, Mary crept back to her own room. If anyone else had known was Sibyl was thinking about they'd have fainted. She could not believe the words that she had heard in her head when she met Sibyl's eyes.

_A vote ... should I ... dress ... Gwen ... vampires ..._

_... Tom Branson ..._

* * *

The dawn was still dark, and the thick clouds hanging in the sky threatened rain and more fog. A mist covered the forest as Matthew trudged back to the clearing, back to her.

The chains still held Lavinia's wrists. The disarray of leaves and twigs around her showed she had struggled to free herself, but the heavy chains were tight. She was asleep again, her cheek resting against the tree root.

Matthew knelt down beside her. He reached out and held a lock of Lavinia's red hair between his fingers. He remembered how beautifully it had been dressed the first time he had met her, the night a feast had been held by His Majesty and Anne Boleyn. Matthew had thought her so beautiful, with hair so vivid it stood out amongst equally rich colors, and her movements on the dance floor were as graceful as a swan's. She had been the fancy of every courtier.

Now she was a monster. And Matthew could not help but feel that, somehow, he had led her to this fate.

"Lavinia," he said softly in her ear.

The woman's eyes opened slightly for a second. She could see the trees surrounding her, and the gentle utterance of her name by a familiar voice.

_Lavinia ... Lavinia ..._

She opened her eyes wider, the face of a man coming into focus. He was kneeling beside her, and she could see blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Blood ... even in her sleep she craved it. She moaned, wishing she had the strength to pull him towards her and lick the crimson sweetness from his chin.

Her eyes were still red, Matthew saw. He remembered how animalistic she had behaved when Mary threw the rock at her head, how different she was from the night he first saw her, graceful and human.

Lavinia watched as he pulled back his sleeve, exposing the smooth pale skin of his arm. He pressed a long nail to his wrist and, with a quick downward stroke, drew it across the flesh. The blood which he had just drank immediately began welling up in the slit and streamed down his hand.

Lavinia's nose twitched like a dog smelling food somewhere. Her eyes seemed to burn with the alluring scent just inches away. Matthew leaned closer to her and put his wrist to her gaping mouth. He felt her tongue lick his skin, cleansing it of blood. He pressed harder and felt her suck at his wrist, her fangs widening the gash he had made. She drank slowly, savoring the taste she had longed for, and Matthew felt the strength he had gotten drinking the blood being drained away from him.

With one hand, he carefully untied one of her wrists, and she grasped his arm, sucking harder. Blood was dripping down her chin and onto her chest as she greedily consumed the crimson nectar. Matthew watched her feed from his own arm, teeth digging deeply into his veins and tongue lapping up the fallen droplets of blood. Lavinia seemed to lose the capacity to stop on her own, with each swallow dragging her closer to ecstasy.

"Enough!" Matthew hissed, wrenching his arm from Lavinia's tight grasp. Her lips, chin, and neck were painted bright red. She snarled as she watched the fountain of blood disappear, the cut healing itself. Matthew felt the remainder of human blood in his veins finally be absorbed into his body. He was glad he had come quickly enough so Lavinia could feed.

Lavinia's head fell back onto the ground and her eyes closed. For a few moments Matthew gazed down at her, the sky turning a lighter grey as morning approached. Lavinia's hands hung limp, and since she did not breathe she looked dead once more, just as Matthew had seen her on that night. The only difference from then and now was the fresh blood staining her face and not her breast.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open. They were wide, and they looked around the forest as if she did not remember where she was. She stared up at him, and he looked back at her. Matthew realized with a start her eyes were no longer red, but had returned to the color he thought so beautiful, a jewel-like blue green. They were no longer empty, no longer devoid of life.

"Oh, Matthew," she breathed. He was still kneeling over her, eyes red as the blood that stained his lips.

"Lavinia?" he said warily. "Are you alright?"

"I-I think so," Lavinia said hesitantly.

Not taking his eyes off of her, Matthew released her other wrist from the tree root. With both hands Lavinia reached forward and tentatively touched his hand. Matthew could feel the sharp points of her nails.

"How long has it been?" Lavinia asked, her voice once more sweet and melodic.

"Almost four hundred years," Matthew said. "This is 1913."

"Nineteen-hundred and thirteen?" Lavinia repeated. "My God, I never imagined ... I never imagined that _you'd _be here."

Something in Matthew's heart began to lighten, as he began to recognize the girl whom he had once loved. He smiled with relief.

"Neither did I," he said, leaning forward. They kissed gently, lips touching lips, the taste of blood mingling in between.


	6. A Red Interlude

_FYI: I recently wrote a sort-of spinoff to this AU universe titled Night, Forevermore. Just a little one-shot with Mary and Matthew. Check it out if you like! :)_

* * *

Matthew tore away from Lavinia abruptly, feeling both confusion and relief.

She was truly back here with him; not the shadow of a demon, but really her. It was the same smile that had charmed him the first time he looked at her, and the blue-green of her eyes that outshone the purest turquoise was the same as well. She was looking up at him with the same affection as she always did. To Matthew, it seemed all a dream.

It was the blood dripping down her chin that reminded him this was neither a dream nor the past.

He had felt nothing from that kiss except cold skin, no passion or feeling. Time had worn his feelings for her. He still loved her, in a way, but there was too much pain, too many nights spent trying to forget her. He could not bear to return to those memories that still pained him.

"Lavinia," he said, before Lavinia could say anything. "Do you remember what happened?"

Lavinia seemed almost afraid to answer this question. Her eyes widened as memories flooded her brain. "I-I think so," she said.

She sat up, wiping away some of the blood that stained her chin.

"I remember that night, but just barely," she said. "Everything was blurry, like I was looking through water, and I was hearing voices, but they were muted ... oh, it's so horrible just thinking of it." Her voice cracked.

"Lavinia, please," Matthew said. "Calm down."

Lavinia nodded, taking a slow breath. The entire forest was deathly silent until she spoke again.

"I remember hearing your voice," she said, looking up at Matthew. "But I could barely hear you, and I couldn't see you, it was so dark and blurred."

She might not remember, but even now Matthew recalled what he had said to her blank stare.

_Lavinia, please, Lavinia ..._

_Lavinia, can't you hear me?_

_We have to go, you need to get away from him ..._

_Lavinia? No, please no ..._

"I heard another voice ... it's strange, I could hear that one so clear," Lavinia went on. "It was - Richard Carlisle, it was _him_."

_Leave us, Matthew Crawley. You have no power over me._

_Don't you dare touch her, you bastard!_

_You fool. She's not yours anymore. She'll never be yours._

"And then I felt something," she said, closing her eyes, trying to remember. "It was hard and cold, and went right in my heart. It didn't hurt much, but I felt it. And then — everything was dark."

Lavinia opened her eyes and gingerly placed her hand over her heart. There was still a scar Matthew could see, where the fatal blow had been.

_She was too far away now, so deep in a spell that she might not even remember her own name. __She would no longer be his. _

_His mind protested as he reached down and clutched the gilded handle, but he pushed away any hesitation. __He pulled the dagger slowly from its sheath with shaking hands. _

_Carlisle stepped back when he saw the dagger, but Lavinia stayed standing on her spot on the floor like a stone carving. Her eyes did not see Matthew as he stepped closer to her, trembling._

_"Forgive me," he said silently to himself. He raised the dagger and thrust it right into her heart. It slid easily into her flesh, the blade so deep that the hilt almost reached the skin. Blood flew from the wound and sprayed him in the face, staining every surface close to them. _

_Matthew closed his eyes as he wrenched the dagger from her heart, feeling warm blood spill onto his hands. He let go of the now dirty knife and heard it fall to the floor with a _clang. _The sound rang in his ears as loud as a bell._

_He opened his eyes, and for a second saw Lavinia standing just as she had been before, eyes staring past him, arms hanging limply by her side. Then she crumpled to the floor, blood pooling from her chest like a fountain._

_He killed her. _He killed her._  
_

Lavinia was looking up at him with wide eyes, finally realizing what had happened.

"Matthew?" she said softly. "No, you didn't –"

"I did," Matthew answered.

Lavinia gasped and touched both of her hands to her face. "No ... no," Matthew heard her moaning. "How could you?"

"Carlisle had you under his influence. There was nothing I thought could do but —"

He suddenly stopped. Lavinia watched with apprehension as Matthew's face hardened and his red eyes seemed to burn.

"Of course," Matthew said, the anger in his voice soft and quiet. "It was _him_!"

He should have known the entire time that Sir Richard Carlisle, the monster that had cursed Lavinia when she was still human, had probably already began to transform her into a vampire.

"Lavinia, can you remember anything else?" Matthew asked. "Do you remember what happened next?"

But Lavinia was shaking her head. "No, everything was dark and cold. It was so cold, like ice was touching me ... and then something else ... it was in my mouth. It was almost warm, but the taste was strange."

She touched her lips as if recalling the taste. Her hands were still wet with ...

"Blood," Matthew said, understanding. "He fed you his blood. That's why you've become —"

Lavinia was sucking on her blood-soaked fingers. Her eyes were once again red. Her lust was still evident, and it was clear to Matthew that she was not exactly the same as she was when human.

_But how could she had been turned when she was already dead?_ Matthew thought. He had never tried turning anyone into a vampire, and he was only aware of those who became undead when they were still alive. Was it possible for a corpse to be revived as a vampire? Even four hundred years into his long, dark life, Matthew did not know everything about his curse.

The sun had risen higher in the sky. Morning was approaching fast. Hopefully Lavinia would not feel the burn of the sun so badly as before.

"Lavinia?" Matthew asked cautiously. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, I am," she said, licking the last of the blood from her fingers. Her lips were stained, and her tongue darted out, not wanting to miss any precious drops.

She was telling the truth. There was no danger of her attacking the family – at least Matthew hoped there was no danger.

He stood up, and Lavinia followed. Her strength had returned and she stood balanced. She was walking easier, but she held onto Matthew's arm, afraid to fall again.

"Where are we going?" she asked Matthew.

Matthew did not answer her. He was wondering how to explain to the family that the demon they were trying to kill was his supposedly-dead fiancée. The bloodthirsty creature that had tore apart a little girl and threatened more children was a woman from his past.

The thing he dreaded most, though, was explaining it all to Mary.

* * *

Mary woke up feeling somewhat disturbed, and it wasn't because she was sleeping in a coffin. She remembered the past night, hearing Sibyl's thoughts that had kept her awake. Tom Branson was among those thoughts.

Mary had enough trouble with Lavinia Swire back from the dead, but now her sister was thinking about the chauffeur late at night, and Mary hadn't forgotten that Tom was instrumental in kidnapping Sibyl. It was bizarre in more ways than one.

By the time she was dressed dark clouds had begun to roll in, and a torrential rain began to fall from the heavens an hour later. She saw Sibyl at breakfast, yawning somewhat but managing to act cheerful. Her sister had no idea that she had looked into her mind, but Mary was determined not to give anything away.

"Good lord, if it doesn't stop raining like this every week we'll need to sprout fins and tails before the year is up," Edith remarked as thunder rolled like a cannon blast. She looked around the breakfast room to see if anyone thought her comment funny, unintentionally stopping at Mary.

"Don't look at me, it certainly isn't my fault," Mary said. She did notice that the weather had been ghastly since the May day fair, since the first murder. The murder that Lavinia had committed.

She couldn't help thinking of Lavinia this way, but Mary couldn't even bring herself to pity the vicious creature. It was vile, the way it looked at Matthew, the way she stood, how her hunger for blood seemed to cloud her eyes. It disgusted her.

She wondered where Matthew was and what he was doing. Seeing Lavinia in the forest had hit him hard. She wondered if she should go find him, wherever he was ... but what was she supposed to say to him? What was she supposed to do?

She wandered about the house as if the answer was somewhere among the fine paintings or precise stonework. She was in the library trying to find a book to read when Sibyl came running in (as much as she possibly could in a skirt).

"To— Branson needs to see you. He says its urgent," Sibyl said, trying to catch her breath.

"_What_?" Mary exclaimed incredulously.

"He wants you to come quickly. He's waiting at the front door by now," Sibyl said. Then, before Mary could open her mouth, she added, "He didn't say why."

"Well, that's reassuring," Mary said. If the chauffeur had something 'urgent,' then what was waiting to be seen was indefinitely not good.

"Fine. Don't tell anyone where I've gone, though," Mary said, her eyes boring a hole into her sister's face. She turned on her heel and stepped forward, stopped, and turned back. "And why were you running?"

"Uh ..." Sibyl stammered. She suddenly fled the room.

Mary frowned as Sibyl hastened out of the library, took in a long breath, then left as well, leaving the dark room vacant.

* * *

_She'd gone down to the servant's quarters to look for Gwen and tell her about another job prospect. Sibyl was almost certain that this employer, a certain firm she had never heard of, was looking for the type of hard worker that Gwen was, and she was practically brimming with confidence as she told Gwen._

_She was on her way back upstairs when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him._

_He was watching her too. He was standing by the back door, his hair shining from the rain. Even from afar, Sibyl thought, he was so handsome._

_"Lady Sibyl," he said quietly, even though there was almost no one else downstairs. He walked over to her, and Sibyl found her heart skipping several beats._

_"Will you tell Lady Mary that I'm looking for her?" Tom Branson said. "Please, tell her quickly, it's urgent."_

_"Why?" Sibyl asked. What could the chauffeur possibly want from Mary ...?_

_"Just ... tell her I'll be waiting for her at the front door," he said. There was a note of real distress in his voice._

_Sibyl bit her lip, trying not to ask 'why' again, then slowly said, "Alright." She turned to go back down the hall to the stairs._

_"Wait." She heard his voice, and then his touch on her arm. His hand felt like cold stone. _

_She whirled around, and saw red._

_The entire world was at a standstill, and only she and Branson were capable of moving._

_He had her suddenly, and he pushed her against the wall, pinning her arms at her side grasping them so tightly she winced and bit her lip again._

_She tasted blood inside her mouth._

_He was panting hard, the sound to animalistic to be made by a person. His mouth was open, and Sibyl could see those long glistening white fangs. _

_All she wanted to do was scream. Someone would hear, someone would help her. But for a moment she didn't make a sound. She was silent as the vampire ran his tongue on the skin of her neck. She was shaking, deathly afraid. His breath was on her neck, like cold air, and she recalled the night that he had first touched her, the night he ... _

_Sibyl did not deny it; she was enjoying how close he was to her, lips so close to her. But she remembered that he wasn't human and she was, that it was her blood that was sending him into this frenzy. __She knew was was going to happen now._

_She closed her eyes, waiting for those sharp fangs to bit into her, to feel his mouth sucking the blood from her veins. She knew just how much pain she would feel, the start of it forming as she felt the pricks on her skin._

_And then he pulled away. His eyes were still red, but he could see her now. Sibyl stood still, watching Tom run back to the door, throwing it open and closing it with such force the window panes shook._

_Sibyl was completely still for a moment, pressed up against the wall. She could still feel his long hands around her arms, his icy breath on her neck._

_And she would never forget the bloody shine of his eyes._

_She ran, as fast as she could, back upstairs._

* * *

Mary tried not to second guess herself as Branson led her outside, holding an umbrella to shield her against the frigid rain. She hoped no one would see them together, it would be an odd sight to behold.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked.

"My cottage," Branson said, his accent thick.

_Good Lord, _Mary thought. Why there, of all places?

They crossed the grounds unseen, and Branson unlocked the door to the chauffeur's cottage. Mary looked at him bewildered.

"What -?" she began, as Branson opened the door.

Not a single light was on, so she couldn't see much of what was in the tiny little dwelling. It was heavily shaded by trees, so hardly any light could reach inside.

_What's going on?_ she thought, then caught a scent. Two, to be exact, but they were so similar she could have missed it.

"Matthew?" she called into the darkness.

Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning cracked across the sky, followed half a second later by a tremendous crack of thunder. In one heartbeat the interior of the cottage lit up, shining light a split second Mary saw, sitting together on the bed, Matthew and Lavinia, the latter clinging like a scared child to the former's arm for protection and comfort.

Her eyes were wide, and instead of red they were blue-green.


	7. Lured by the Dark

"How …?" Mary stammered. Darkness had settled in the cabin again, but the sea-like color of Lavinia's eyes was still bright. Mary could not believe that only a few hours ago she had nearly been attacked by that thing with shining red eyes, and it was now huddled by Matthew like a frightened child. Now, it looked almost _innocent_.

"I fed her," Matthew said. "I gave her blood. I had to. But she's better now."

Mary looked back at Lavinia. Her hair was still matted and wild, her hands animalized with pointed nails, but her face was softer now that she was no longer snarling like a dog. She looked human.

But Mary still did not like it.

"I had nowhere else to take her," Matthew continued. "I don't know what she'll be like if she's around the others."

Sooner or later she was going to be hungry again, and when that happened she was either going to attack ruthlessly as before, or she was going to gain just enough strength to control herself. Matthew hoped that she would recover from her primal instincts just as the others in the room had managed.

"Mary," Lavinia saids, looking up at her. Mary was stunned to hear the sweet light voice instead of the rasping she heard earlier. "I'm sorry for ... what I did before."

Mary stood looking down at Lavinia, wondering if, in fact, she was going to stay like this forever. This small but pretty woman that had fallen in love with Matthew four hundred years earlier was immortal, here to stay.

Mary tried to hide her disappointment as she smiled warmly at Lavinia.

"It's alright," she said. "As long as you're feeling better."

Matthew took both of Lavinia's hands in his. "Lavinia, you need to stay here. Tom will look after you. We'll come back as soon as possible."

Lavinia watched with wide, sad eyes as Matthew removed his touch from her hands and went out into the dark, followed by Mary.

"Matthew, how could she ...?" Mary began, once the cottage door had closed behind her. The rain had stopped briefly, but high above thunder still boomed and quick flashes of lightning lit the sky with an eerie glow.

"It was Carlisle," Matthew said. "He gave Lavinia's corpse blood after I killed her. I was running away when he changed her."

Instead of finally understanding like she hoped she would, Mary was only partially grasp the facts. "But if she was dead ..."

"I've been thinking about that," Matthew said. "Perhaps she wasn't completely dead, or maybe – she was still warm when I touched her the last time, perhaps that has something to do with it. She doesn't know much after that, all she can remember was that Carlisle fed her his blood. He had been intending to turn her for a long time, and she was probably halfway there."

He remembered Carlisle's fangs in his own neck, sucking out his life, punishing him for ending Lavinia's.

"Then he locked her in a coffin," Mary said. "Why?"

"She might have been too bloodthirsty to control," Matthew said, though he was unsure of it himself. "I can't imagine how dangerous she was when she woke up and she was undead."

Carlisle had imprisoned Lavinia to keep her from murdering humans left and right and sowing suspicion, Matthew figured. Then somehow Carlisle arranged for the coffin to be buried far away from London, at the very place that Matthew would find himself centuries later.

But if Lavinia had proved so deadly, why had Carlisle not killed her then and there? A vampire had many powers, but seeing the future was not one of them. There was no way Carlisle could have known Lavinia would one day be freed from her prison with Matthew so close by.

"I supposes everyone will need to know now," Mary sighed. "They're expecting us to kill a monster, and it turns out it's your fiancée."

His fiancée. It was so hard to imagine that he had one, that in fact he had a life much different than the one he was living now.

"Matthew, please tell me," Mary said, facing him. "Do you still love her?"

Matthew blinked, trying to find the answer to that question he had been asking himself. He still cared for Lavinia, he obviously wanted her to be safe, but was that the entire truth? Time had left him with the notion that she was gone and so he had spent the decades following his death trying to forget her name. Now she was here again, did he feel the same way about her when they were both alive?

And Mary ... yes, he loved Mary, even though he had believed he could never feel such passion anymore. As harsh as she had been in the beginning he had grown close to her after her transformation, and he was sure that, with her, he would never feel lonely anymore.

But Lavinia was scared and confused, and if she learned how he felt towards Mary, how would she take that? Matthew could not let her feel alone, especially after being locked in a box for what could have been eternity. Matthew felt as if he was being ripped in two. God, why was this happening to him?

"Mary, I can't ... I don't know," was all he could say.

"Matthew," Mary said tenderly, taking ahold of his hand. Matthew thought of how when he had kissed Lavinia in the forest that he had felt only cold skin, like she was a stone statue. But he felt life when he held Mary's hand, he felt something alive. There was no doubt that he loved her, and she knew it well. But he knew, looking into her mind, that she was afraid of his love for Lavinia, if it was the same as when he was human.

"Mary, you must not worry," Matthew said, drawing her close to him. "Just because Lavinia is here ... it doesn't mean I love you any less."

Despite this not being the answer to her question, Mary felt relief just hearing those words.

"Come on, let's head back before it starts to rain again," she said, taking Matthew's arm and guiding them both back to the house.

* * *

Anna paused at her work to rub the spot on her neck that always seemed to twinge. Mary had fed from her enough times to leave two faint marks where she bit into her neck, and if one looked close enough they could make it out. Despite being fed from only once in about two weeks there was always a faint pain whenever Anna pressed hard on the spot.

She usually felt tired in the morning after being fed from, but by the afternoon she usually felt better, and she moved quicker as she and Gwen gave the dining room a good going-over, only stopping when she felt the twinge in her neck.

"You're always doing that, Anna," Gwen said while wiping every speck of dust from the table.

"Doing what?" Anna asked.

"Rubbing your neck like that," Gwen said, pointing. Anna quickly took her hand away from her throat.

"Does it always hurt?" Gwen asked. "Maybe you should see the doctor."

"No," Anna said quickly. "It's just sore sometimes."

She would never let anyone see the marks on her neck and ask; she had no idea what she could say to avoid saying the bizarre truth. There was no way anyone would believe her, of course, but they might think her either mad or sick.

When Anna looked back at Gwen, the latter maid looked unconvinced.

"It's been like that for months now," she said. "If it hurts like that —"

"Gwen!" Anna snapped. "I'm fine, really."

Gwen went back to wiping the table; she knew better than to argue with the head housemaid. She was already somewhat estranged from the rest of the servants because of her ambition to be a secretary _and _Lady Sibyl helping her find a job. She was always tense nowadays as well, sneaking away to interviews and waiting for letters. She rubbed her forehead, feeling a scar that she could not remember getting.

* * *

O'Brien had just finished fixing up her hair when Cora heard her husband's knocking at the door.

"Will that be all, m'lady?" O'Brien said, parroting the same words she said every time she finished helping her lady dress.

"Yes," Cora said, watching her maid leave and her husband close the door.

"What is it?" she asked, gingerly touching her hairdo.

"You won't believe what Mary and Matthew have just told me," Robert said.

Recently O'Brien had conveyed to her rumors that the servants downstairs were whispering, but Cora was one of the few that knew the truth of what was stalking the young children of the village. And for the past week it was what Robert spoke to her about when he was sure they were alone. She stared at her husband, afraid of what her husband was going to say.

Robert made Cora sit down before he repeated what Mary and Matthew had said to him earlier. Cora's reaction throughout Robert's monologue was the same as when she learned her oldest daughter had been turned into a vampire: stunned silence.

"How horrible this is becoming," she eventually managed to say. She had really been hoping that they could get rid of the monster quickly and get back to their peaceful lives again.

"Both of them were rather distressed," Robert said. He brought his voice down to a whisper in case O'Brien was lingering with her ear pressed against the bedroom door. "It's bad enough that we had a vicious murderer nearby, now we find out it's cousin Matthew's fiancée who is supposed to be dead."

"Well, as it turns out your mother's invited herself to dinner, and I'm very much looking forward to hearing what _she_ has to say," Cora said with sarcasm practically overflowing.

Robert sighed; he was used to his wife and his mother scorning each other. "We should go down, we won't want to be missed."

As the two of them walked down the large staircase, Cora noticed that the torrential rain had lessened to just a light pitter-patter against the window panes. In the drawing room Mary, Matthew, Edith, and the dowager countess were waiting. However, it did not take long to notice someone was missing.

"Where's Sibyl?" Cora asked, scanning the room as if Sibyl was hiding somewhere.

"Apparently she's not feeling well," Edith said. "Stomachache," she added shortly.

"Poor thing," Cora muttered.

Mary remembered how Sibyl had acted earlier in the library, and she wondered if she was still in shock from whatever happened.

In fact, Sibyl wasn't even in bed. At the same time the first course was brought out she was sneaking down the stairs as quietly as she good, glad the house was dark enough for cover. She managed to get to the front of the house without being seen, and quickly opened the door, went outside, and closed the door behind her.

She had her coat on top of her head like a shawl to avoid getting it wet. She shivered in the dark as she ran to the back of the house, to the shed were the cars were kept. A faint glow of candlelight told her that he was there. Her heart seemed to pound as she approached the shed, hoping that she could regain some calm when he finally saw her.

She had to let him know; she didn't care that he had tried to bite her earlier. It had frightened her terribly, but she was not going to hate him for that. He had always been so kind to her, and she had seen the way he had turned away when he realized he had tried to attack her. He wasn't evil in the least, Sibyl thought.

Branson was by the car, fiddling with something - Sibyl had no insight in the workings of automobiles - and he looked up when he saw Sibyl approach the garage.

He couldn't tell if he was horrified or delighted to see her. He could not stop himself from thinking of those beautiful eyes, that innocent face - and the smell of her blood. He had tasted it once before, and the rich tang of it in his throat had been a wonderful experience, even though the circumstance was one he'd rather not recall. His body ached for it every time she was near him. He had come so, so close to tasting it again, but how could he do that to her again?

He was used to attacked to satisfy his thirst. For years he had brutally attacked and drank his victims, sometimes killing them. It had taken so long to regain control, and even now sometimes he had to fight the urge when he was surrounded by the servants or he drove the rich family to and fro. Even fifty years after being turned, control was hard to grasp.

Branson straightened up, standing opposite from Lady Sibyl. "Can I help you, m'lady?" he asked, taking a cloth to wipe his hands clean of oil.

Sibyl removed her wet jacked from her head. "Branson ... I ..." She had never felt such disobedience from her tongue, trying to say words but losing them. "I wanted ... I want you to know ..."

He was watching her intently. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I want you to know that ... what happened earlier ... it doesn't matter. I don't hate you for it."

His blue eyes were locked onto her. Sibyl did not feel afraid of him, though she had plenty of reason to. So if it wasn't fear that was keeping her so tense, then what was it?

Branson gripped the soiled cloth with both hands, the knuckles on his long fingers turning white. "Thank you, m'lady," he said to Sibyl, "for your forgiveness."

He was desperately trying to get a grip on himself. There was something about Lady Sibyl's blood that sang to him more than any other human's. But she had just forgiven him for what he'd nearly done, he could resist with the reminder that she was not hurt.

Sibyl saw how tense Branson was, and she understood why; he was a vampire, a creature that drank human blood, and she was a human, alone, with no one else around.

She was suddenly seized with a horrible idea, and the very thought that it was her idea terrified her.

"Branson, drink my blood."

_I can't do this_, she thought, _I can't, it's not allowed._ But she could not bear the way he was looking at her. He looked like a starving vagrant, an unattainable meal just out of reach. Branson looked horrified, and he stepped back as she stepped close to him, the scent of her getting stronger.

"No," he choked out. "I _can't_."

But his body was betraying him: his eyeteeth were lengthening and turning sharper, a blood-colored lustre replacing the blue in his irises. The flame of the candle reflected in his eyes, making them glow with fire.

"Lady Sibyl," he pleaded, "run."

But she was brushing her hair away from her warm neck, the veins pulsing with blood. He was lost.

She was going to taste even sweeter than before.

"I won't let you suffer," Sibyl said to the creature before her. "I just ... can't."

She couldn't believe herself, but was standing between him and the car, Branson's red eyes burning so much she couldn't bear to look at them. But she was hypnotized by those eyes, just as before, unable to turn.

His face twisted into what was either a grimace or a smile. For a second Sibyl could not believe that this was the same man she had spoken with a few minutes ago. He opened his mouth wide, showing his long white fangs.

He pushed her against the car, his hands gripping her shoulders. He was sniffing her neck, smelling the warm blood inside her, screaming to be consumed by him. Sibyl tried to keep herself from squirming, but something in her wanted to fight back, to run far away. She gave a slight whimper when she felt Branson's sharp nails in her shoulders and closed her eyes tight. He made a soft shushing noise, running his cold hands on her collarbone and caressing her neck, sending chills throughout her. There was nothing human in his tender touch. There was no way he'd let her go now.

He was smelling her neck again, breathing heavily on her skin. Sibyl felt his tongue run over her, the tips of his fangs just touching her throat. With her eyes shut tight she could only feel him, feel his cold hands and breath, and she knew it was fear and suspense that was keeping her paralyzed in his embrace.

Branson was gone now; nothing on earth could rip him away from her. He couldn't believe how close he was to her, how fragrant she smelled. Whatever traces of humanity he had were lost now. He held her tighter still, not allowing her to take a single chance to escape.

Sibyl felt his fangs on her neck, and she whimpered again. He tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to his mouth which he pressed against her soft bare skin. She wanted this suspense to be over, to stop feeling so helpless in his arms.

His fangs sank into her neck, and blood pooled into his mouth and onto her shoulder. She gasped, feeling him suck her blood and swallow it eagerly. It was a pain of a different sort, not like anything she'd ever felt. She wondered what she had done, what she had gotten into. Her screams were silent.

Branson was right - she tasted so much better this time, the blood so sweet, so _good._ It was just like the first few times he had tasted blood. He wondered how he could have lived without her, how he had gone all this time without her. He was glad he had waited for this chance to taste her again, to drink her, to possess her. He ran his tongue around the holes, cleaning her now cool skin of blood.

He felt her grow weak, the strength quickly leaving her. He pulled back and saw her eyes closed, breathing hard, trying to stay standing.

She opened her eyes when she felt him remove himself from her neck. He was looking at her, his eyes still red, but the emotion had returned some. Blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Sibyl lost the will to stand, and her knees buckled. Branson grabbed ahold of her arms, lowering her down so she would not fall so hard.

"Are you ...?" Sibyl breathed, her voice ragged and breathless.

"I'm fine," Branson said, wiping the dripping blood from his face. His hunger was sated, and with her blood inside of him he should have been feeling better. But seeing her pale and weak did not ease his guilt.

He lifted her up easily; she felt weightless in his arms. "I'll get you back to your room," he promised her. She was so limp, so fragile. He had drank too much again.

She was speaking again, but her words were slurred. It took her several tries before she sounded comprehensible.

She was saying, "Thank you."

* * *

Lavinia was lying on the bed in the chauffeur's cottage, finally asleep. But even in her sleep she wanted a human's blood, and her tongue sometimes darted out like a snake to lick her lips and run over her teeth. She dreamed of it, dreamed of having just one more drop of a child's blood. They had all tasted like heaven.

Suddenly, without warning, her eyes flew open and darted around the room. It was empty and dark, just like her coffin.

At first she didn't know why she had been jolted out of her sleep, but a few seconds went by, and then she smelled it.

_Blood._

Her eyes burned with red.

* * *

_AN: hehehehe. Who doesn't want a little Vampire!Tom/Sibyl stuff? (rhetorical question)_

**_Reviews are love: I like to know how I'm doing. ;)_**


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